Maybe Things Can Change
by Snakequeen-in-Norway
Summary: Very similar to Coming to Care, but without the continuations. I originally drafted the two at the same time. Sick!Harry. Severus taking care of him. Bonding. A little sappy. Mild swearing. Reference to child abuse/neglect.
1. Chapter 1: Stuck

**Author's Note: I'm going through and fixing the typos and deleted scene breaks, also deleting any outdated author's notes. Hopefully it will be more polished now. :)**

**-SQ**

**Disclaimer: Wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles, Harry Potter is not mine.**

**Chapter One: Stuck**

Harry sat at the table in Snape's office, trying to concentrate on the papers he was organizing through the pounding in his temples.

"Potter!" Snape's voice cut through his throbbing head like a knife. "Aren't you done _yet_?"

"No, sir," muttered Harry, rubbing his bleary eyes with his knuckles.

"Why not, Potter?" demanded Snape silkily.

_That's a stupid thing to ask_, thought Harry irritably. _What am I supposed to say?_

When Harry didn't answer, Snape said, "I'll tell you why, Potter, because you are lazy."

Harry wanted to contradict him, but his head hurt too much for him too think properly and he simply didn't have the energy.

"Yes, sir," he muttered resentfully.

Severus raised his eyebrows. _"Yes, sir"?_ That didn't sound like Potter.

"Is something the matter Potter?"

"No, sir," growled Harry, clenching his clammy fists. "I'm _working on it_, Professor."

"Well then, get to it," said Severus, turning back to his desk.

Fighting dizziness, Harry returned to the papers in front of him. They swam before his eyes and he grabbed the desk to steady himself.

A minute later, Severus heard Potter's quill clatter to the floor.

"Potter," he growled without turning around, "come here."

Harry shakily pushed himself up from the chair. The room lurched and he grabbed the desk again, forcing himself to walk toward his professor.

Severus turned in his chair to look at Potter. What the—? Potter was as white as a ghost and shaking so violently it was a wonder he hadn't fallen down.

"Potter, come here," said Severus again, standing up as he beckoned the boy over. "You're shaking," he stated, eying the pale boy.

"It's cold in here," Potter whispered unconvincingly.

Snape lifted his hand to put his fingers to Harry's forehead, but Harry staggered back. He _couldn't_ let Snape feel that he had a temperature. He _couldn't_.

"I'm _fine_," sad Harry with as much force as he cold muster. His voice sounded weak and pathetic even in his own ears. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Sit down, Potter," he said, conjuring a chair with his wand and pushing Harry into it.

Harry staggered back into the chair, glaring resentfully at his professor.

"Just let me finish my work, Professor," whispered Harry through gritted teeth. "Then I'll go away and leave you alone."

Severus couldn't deny that the offer was tempting, but Potter was being ridiculous. Severus snorted. "You are in no shape to do any work, Potter. Surely even an imbecile such as yourself can see that."

"So?" Harry challenged, though his ears were ringing painfully and brightly colored dots were beginning to dance before his eyes. "What's it to you? Why do you care?"

That brought Severus up short. Care? He didn't care. Not about this pathetic child who sat in front of him, too proud and stubborn to even admit that he was ill. It was Lily he had cared for. Always Lily. But he wasn't about to tell that to _Potter_.

"I _care_, Potter," Severus spat finally, "that you are wasting my time by being here when you cannot do the work you came here for."

"Then send me away," said Harry, clenching his clammy fists and digging his nails into his palms to will himself not to pass out.

Severus barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes.

"Potter," he said in exasperation, "you would not get even as far as the door."

He took a step toward the shivering boy, but Harry jerked back, panicked. Snape _could not_ know how sick he was. It was too humiliating, and it would make him too vulnerable. Besides, _no one_ was supposed to know when he was sick. That was one of the rules.

"_Do not fight me,"_ growled Severus, catching the boy's arm in one hand and pressing the fingers of the other to Potter's forehead.

Severus nearly yelped. Potter was running a raging fever. Severus was surprised that Potter was still conscious, never mind coherent.

"Potter," said Severus, speaking more quietly. "Potter, can you stand?"

Snape's hand on his forehead was icy. Harry shivered even more violently and tried to focus on what his professor was saying; the words kept slipping in and out, like a badly tuned radio. Snape had asked him a question...asked him if he could stand...Harry nodded and tried to pull himself to his feet. His muscles didn't seem to want to obey him, however, and he stumbled. Snape caught him and lowered him back into the chair.

"Obviously not," said Severus dryly, moving his hand from Potter's forehead to his sweat-drenched shoulder. "Potter, are you cold?"

Harry managed to nod. His head felt as though it were made of lead, his body like it was encased in ice.

Swearing inwardly, Severus grabbed a blanket off the nearby couch and wrapped it firmly around Potter's shoulders. Then, gritting his teeth in disgust, he picked the sickly boy up in his arms and laid him down on the sofa.

Harry protested feebly, but Snape's arms were oddly comforting and the blanket was soft and warm. As Snape lowered him onto the sofa, Harry finally let go of consciousness and slipped into black oblivion.

Severus felt the struggling preteen in his arms go limp and this time he swore out loud. "Damnit, Potter! You exist solely to make my life Hell, don't you?"

Severus conjured a wet cloth and pressed it to the boy's burning forehead. "Hold on, Potter," he muttered. "Just—hold on."

*****MTCC*****

Madam Pomfrey was filing medical records in her office when Severus suddenly clambered out of her fireplace. She screamed.

"Severus! What—why—how—"

"It's Potter, Poppy. He's passed out in my office. He's running a dangerously high temperature."

Poppy was out of her chair before Severus had finished speaking.

"Potter," she said, gathering her bag and supplies and striding toward the fireplace, floo powder in hand. "It's always Potter, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Severus sardonically, "it's always Potter."

Severus and Poppy stepped through the fireplace and hurried to Potter's side. Severus sucked in his breath. In the few minutes he had been gone Potter had become even paler and had begun shaking violently again. As Poppy leaned over him, Potter began to whimper and moan.

"Why didn't you send him to me right away, Severus?" demanded Poppy as she took Potter's pulse. "As soon as you saw the state he was in?"

Shame burned Severus's cheeks. The truth was, he hadn't noticed that the boy was ill until he had nearly collapsed in front of him. He hadn't been paying attention. _Fool_, he berated himself, _how are you supposed to keep him safe if you don't pay any attention to him?_

"How bad is he?" Severus asked Poppy, keeping his voice calm and detached.

Poppy looked up and met Severus's eyes. "Not good, Severus," she said frankly. "Not good at all."

Severus wiped a hand over his tired eyes. "Will he—?" He let the question hang in the air between them.

"Let's hope so," said Poppy.

"What's wrong with him?" said Severus, kneeling down beside Potter's prone figure.

"I'd say he's been ill for a while," said Poppy, pursing her lips. "It probably started as a common cold or flu, but it wasn't treated and the combination of stress and magic has morphed it into something much more serious. Severus," she turned to face him again, "he can't be moved."

It took a moment for the meaning of Poppy's words to sink in. Then he groaned. Potter, here, in his office.

"I have to _teach_, Poppy," he growled. "I can't babysit!"

"I'll make sure that someone is here at all times when you are not, Severus," said Poppy. "Meanwhile, I'm going to need your help in more than looking after him." She gestured toward his potions ingredients.

Severus grimaced. He was giving up his time, and his privacy, for Potter's preteen brat. _He's Lily's son, too_ said a voice in his head.

_I know_, Severus told the voice silently.

"Tell me what I need to do, Poppy."

*****MTCC*****

Poppy had left and the headmaster had come and gone. Severus had pulled a chair up beside the couch where Potter still lay and was, of all things, trying to spoon-feed him porridge mixed with potion.

"Hold _still_," Severus growled as Potter whimpered and tried to pull away. "Good-for-nothing brat."

When Severus had finally finished feeding Potter he got up from the chair to take the potion back to its cupboard. As he stood he felt something grab the edge of his robes. Looking down, he saw that Potter's sweaty hand was fastened to the black fabric. Disgusted, Severus slapped the hand away, but Potter's grip did not loosen.

"Let _go_!" Severus snapped, prying the small fingers from his robes.

On his way into his storeroom, Severus glanced back at the boy. He was curled into a tight ball on the sofa, looking small and forlorn and innocent. Severus snorted. _Innocent_, he thought. _Yeah, right._

**AN: I always appreciate reviews, even months after I finished the story :)**

**-SQ**


	2. Chapter 2: Coming Close

**Disclaimer: Jo owns Harry Potter, not me.**

**Chapter Two: Coming Close**

It was several days later and Potter was no better. Despite Severus's and Poppy's constant care, he had lost weight, weight that the already slight boy could not afford to lose. Severus was yet again trying to make the boy eat when there was a tentative knock on his office door. Scowling, Severus stalked to the door and yanked it open.

Potter's friends Weasley and Granger stood there, looking scared but determined. Severus glowered down at them.

Weasley gulped, but Granger stood up straighter and said, "Professor Snape, we wanted to see Harry. We were wondering how he's doing and Madam Pomfrey said he was here—"

"No visitors," Severus snapped, making to close the door.

"Please, Professor," said Granger quickly, "we only wanted to know how Harry's doing. He's our friend and—"

"Very poorly," said Severus in a clipped tone. "And I don't think much of friends who let each other get into such a state."

"What would you know about friendship?" said Weasley heatedly.

"Ron!" gasped Granger.

"Weasley," said Severus threateningly, "Get. Out."

The two Gryffindors had enough sense to turn around and walk away, although as he shut the door, Severus heard Weasley say, "Slimy git."

Severus returned to the sofa and looked down at Potter's unconscious form. Poppy had told her that it worried her that the boy had still not regained consciousness. Severus ran a hand through his limp black hair tiredly.

"Potter," said Severus, "your obnoxious friends were here." He wondered why he was talking to the boy; he was unconscious for Merlin's sake.

Severus sank down on the chair beside the couch and rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers. Potter moaned and Severus absently reached out his hand and patted the boy's hair before pulling the blanket he had kicked off back into place.

"Shhh," said Severus. "Be quiet, Potter."

Severus let his hand rest on Potter's burning shoulder and sighed. This boy would be the death of him.

"The things I do for you, Lily," he muttered.

*****MTCC*****

Severus was in bed, catching a few precious hours of sleep, when he heard a noise coming from his office. Cursing, Severus tossed the blankets aside and threw on his robe. Opening the door to his office, Severus's curses got even more colorful. Potter was thrashing around on the couch, nearly choking himself. He looked as though he were having some sort of seizure.

Severus stood there, frozen in the doorway, watching the boy who looked like James Potter writhing in agony. Then the boy's face turned toward him and his eyes fluttered open; Lily's green gaze looked back at him and the world lurched back into motion. It was _Lily's_ son lying in front of him, in pain, maybe dying. Lily's son, whom he had sworn to protect with his life.

Severus sprinted from the doorway to Potter's side, wrenching the blankets away before they could strangle the child. Severus had only very minor healing training, but he remembered that the best thing to do when someone was having a seizure was to move everything that could hurt them out of the way, protect their head, and give their limbs free range. Severus managed to to move the boy to floor, pushing the chair out of the way, and held his head as he thrashed and flailed. Severus's brain was working frantically; what could have brought on Potters seizure? He knew that dehydration could sometimes cause seizures; had he not given the boy enough to drink?

Slowly, Potter's thrashing eased and then stopped all together, leaving the boy limp and shivering. Bending over him, Severus heard very shallow breathing coming from Potter's slightly parted lips, barely a whisper. Gently, Severus eased Potter's head onto his lap and summoned a potion from his storage cabinet.

"Don't you dare die, Potter," Severus whispered in a slightly panicky voice; he could feel Potter's faint, irregular pulse fluttering against his fingertips. "Don't you _dare_ die."

Severus didn't know how long he sat there on the floor, holding Harry Potter on his lap, feeding him potions and breathing into his lungs to keep him alive. Slowly, ever so slowly, Potter's breathing evened out and his heartbeat grew stronger. Severus carefully gathered Potter in his arms and stood up. The preteen's head lolled on his shoulder, but strangely this didn't bother Severus too much. He set the boy on the couch and summoned a damp cloth and a glass of water. Pressing the cloth to Potter's forehead, Severus used his other hand to tilt the water up to Potter's dry, cracked lips. As the watter touched his mouth, Potter's eyelids fluttered. Severus put the glass down and peered into Potter's face.

"Potter, are you awake? Can you hear me?"

Harry felt like he was swimming through a very dense fog. Well, swimming wasn't exactly the right word; he would have had to have a body to swim, and he was just a stream of semi-consciousness drifting through a heavy, pearly substance that wasn't really a substance at all. Up ahead of him he saw, or sensed, light and sound. Harry struggled toward it, straining to reach the way out of this seemingly endless limbo.

Then, all at once, he had reached it and was thrust into the middle of the light and sound. Harry found that he did have a body after all, and every inch of it felt as though it were covered in bruises. The light scorched his eyeballs and the sounds shattered his eardrums. He cried out and tried to move a way from the pain, but that only made it hurt all the more.

Then a pair of strong hands gripped his shoulders and a soft, silky voice said, "Potter, relax. Can you hear me?"

Harry tired to reply, but his voice croaked and his throat constricted, sending him into a fit of dry, rasping coughs. Someone held a glass of water up to Harry's lips and he drank greedily, almost choking on the blessedly cool liquid. One of the strong hands patted him firmly on the back.

"Hurts," moaned Harry, his voice hoarse and croaky. And then, "Th-thanks."

He heard a dry chuckle and felt the hands checking his pulse and feeling his forehead.

"You've still got a fever, Potter," the voice noted.

Harry frowned. He should know that voice...

"Open your eyes, Potter," the voice commanded.

"The light hurts my eyes," whispered Harry huskily.

Severus flicked his wand and the lights dimmed.

"There, now open your eyes," he repeated.

Harry opened his eyes. Everything was blurry. Someone slipped his glasses onto his nose and the room came into focus. It was dark and dingy...not the hospital wing...where was he? He remembered something about feeling ill...and detention...and Snape. Snape!

"Professor Snape?" Harry gasped, gaping at the face hovering inches from his own and starting back. The hooked nose and black eyes did indeed belong to the Potions Master.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Potter," he said. There a vein of his usual sarcasm in his voice, but there was a trace of something else too. It almost sounded like...relief?

"How long have I been out?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Eight days," replied Severus.

"Eight—what?" Harry sat bolt upright, gasping as a wave of dizziness engulfed him. Severus grabbed the boy to keep him from falling or hurting himself, but Harry flinched away. Severus loosened his grip.

"I'm not going to bite your head off, Potter," he said. "I'm trying to _help_ you."

"You are?" Harry said dubiously before he could stop himself.

"Yes," said Severus tiredly. "I am."

"But why?" asked Harry.

"Potter, do you have any idea how ill you have been?"

Harry shook his head mutely.

"Potter, you and your ridiculous pride nearly got you killed."

Harry swallowed. "Did you—save my life?"

"Don't get all sentimental," said Severus.

Harry drew his knees up to his chin and gazed off into space. Snape was looking at him almost was if he was..._worried_ about him. What was going on?

Severus put his hand under Potter's chin and forced his face up.

"Potter," he said as gently as he could. "How do you feel?"

Harry couldn't help it, he grimaced. "Not good," he admitted.

Severus pulled his chair closer to the boy and held a glass of water to Harry's lips.

"Drink, Potter."

Harry drank. When his thirst was quenched, he looked up at his Potions Master, a wary question in his eyes.

Severus laid a cool, damp cloth on Harry's forehead,

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said quietly, wondering what had happened to the boy to make him look so fearful when Severus got close. _Fool_, he berated himself. _Have you ever given him a reason to trust you?_

"Go back to sleep, Potter," he said.

But instead, Potter struggled into a sitting position.

"Are you trying to kill yourself, Potter?" demanded Severus harshly. Potter flinched. "Potter," said Severus. "You infuriate me. What do you want now?"

Harry took a ragged breath. Damn the boy sounded sick. "I'm not sleepy, Professor," he said.

"You sound terrible," Severus informed him, failing to hide the anxiety in his voice.

"Professor,' said Harry, "why are you doing this? You don't care about me."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Potter, I don't think you quite realize how ill you have been. Madam Pomfrey and I have spent the last week fighting for your life."

"But _why_?" said Harry

"Why?" said Severus. "Potter, do you honestly think I want you to die? No, don't answer that. As hard as it may be to believe, I do _not_ wish for you to die. You have been worrying me into senility."

"Worrying?"

"Yes, Potter, worrying. You really are an infuriating child."

Harry looked up into Severus's eyes. Severus knew that look. He had seen it countless times on his own face as a child. It was the look of a boy who wasn't used to kindness and caring from adults, who had come to expect only neglect and abuse and disregard of his feelings and even existence. Severus's gut twisted and his mouth tasted sour. Who _were_ these people who had raised Potter's child to think like this? Raised _Lily's_ child to think like this. Lily's own sister...

"Harry," said Severus. "Come here," Gently, he pulled the ailing twelve-year-old onto his lap. Harry stiffened in surprise but didn't try to pull away. "Tell me about your family, Harry."

"My family?" said Harry. And then, "You called me Harry."

"Yes, I did," said Severus dryly. "Now tell me about your aunt and uncle and cousin."

"They—er—they're called the Dursleys," said Harry hesitantly. Why did Snape want to know about the Dursleys? Harry thought, confused.

"I know what they're _called_," said Severus impatiently. "What are they like? Start with your Aunt."

"Aunt Petunia?" said Harry. Was it his imagination or had Snape's eyes narrowed at the sound of his aunt's name? "She's—er—tall...and has a really long neck... She spies on the neighbors...and dotes on my cousin Dudley... She liked to keeps things really neat, which is why she doesn't like my hair." Harry bit his lip. He hadn't meant to say that. It had just come out. Maybe Snape wouldn't notice...

No such luck.

"Doesn't like your hair?"

"'Cause it—er—sticks up."

"Is that the only thing she doesn't like?"

"No," Harry mumbled.

Severus decided to let that be for now. "Okay, tell me about your cousin."

"Dudley's—er—big," said Harry, starting in the same vague way he had when describing Aunt Petunia. "He looks kind of like a pig. He waddles." Harry's giggle turned into a cough.

Severus patted his back awkwardly. "Go on. Do you play with him?"

Harry snorted and shook his head. "Not hardly. He and his friends sometimes play with _me—_that is—"

"Harry, do they hit you?"

"Sometimes," Harry admitted. "Usually I can get away, though. They're not very fast. Or very bright."

"I see," said Severus, resisting the urge to tighten his arms protectively around the boy. "And your uncle?"

A look of bitterness crossed Harry's face. "Uncle Vernon's big like Dudley, only stronger and faster. And louder."

"Louder?" said Severus. "Does he yell at you?"

Harry hesitated.

"Harry?"

"Yes," whispered Harry, wondering why he was telling Snape this. He wasn't supposed to tell anyone this. And it was _Snape_!

"Often?" said Severus.

Severus had to lean in toward the boy to hear his answer.

"All the time."

"Does he hit you?"

"Not usually," said Harry.

"But he has?"

Harry nodded miserably.

"What does your uncle say when he yells at you?"

"They—" Harry swallowed. "They, you know, blame me for things...insult me..."

Severus scowled. This was sounding way too familiar. Then he remembered something he had heard from Minerva...

"Harry, where do you sleep?"

"My bedroom." said Harry, surprised.

"Did you always sleep there?"

"No," said Harry.

"Where did you used to sleep, Harry?" said Severus.

"Doesn't matter," muttered Harry.

"Tell me," said Severus sternly.

"Under the stairs," mumbled Harry almost inaudibly.

Severus ground his teeth. _Abuse_, he thought. _Blatant abuse_.

"Do you get enough to eat at your aunt and uncle's?" asked Severus.

"They don't starve me," said Harry noncommittally.

"But..." prompted Severus.

"But Dudley always gets first dibs. Please stop asking me questions," said Harry in a small quavery voice.

"Hush," said Severus. "I'm done. I just want you to be safe."

"You never did before," said Harry.

Severus sighed. "Yes I did," he said. "I just didn't show it."

"'Cause you and my dad didn't get along," said Harry. It wasn't a question.

"Yes," admitted Severus. "And that was—unfair."

Wait—was Snape admitting he was wrong?

Suddenly Harry shuddered violently.

"Potter?" Severus gripped the boy tightly. "Harry!"

Vision swimming, Harry held onto the one solid thing he could find: the front of Snape's robes.

"Shh," said Severus, smoothing his hands over the frightened boy's back. "It's okay. Breathe, Harry, _breathe_. Goddamnit boy!" Severus shifted Harry into a better position. He was unnerved to find that his eyes were damp.

Severus felt Harry release his robes and looked down into wide green eyes.

"Don't _scare_ me like that, Potter!" said Severus, picking up the preteen's wrist and feeling his pulse.

"Scare you?" said Harry.

Severus pulled back and looked at the boy in his lap. Potter was pale, shaking, and sweaty. His eyes were glassy and frightened. He looked small and frail. Severus ran a hand through his hair.

"Harry—I've spent the last eight days taking care of you. I don't—I can't not feel any—any concern for your welfare. So yes, when you went like that...it scared me."

Harry looked up at his professor. The black eyes, which usually held such hatred and contempt, were looking at him with something akin to—tenderness."

"You have Lily's eyes," said Severus.

"My mother?" said Harry. "Did you know her?"

"We were friends," said Severus shortly in an end-of-discussion tone.

Harry sensed that there was more to the story, but he was wise enough, and sick enough, to let it lie for now. Instead he said, "Professor Snape, I don't feel so good..."

"I would imagine not," said Severus dryly. He summoned a potion with a flick of his wand. "Drink this."

Harry drank the potion and immediately felt himself drifting off into blissful slumber. The last thing he heard before sleep took him completely was Snape saying "Sweet dreams, Potter."

As soon as Potter was asleep, Severus lifted him onto the couch and sent his Patronus cantering through the door.

"Albus, I want to talk to you."

**AN: You don't have to review, but it sure would be nice ;)**


	3. Chapter 3: Moving Out

**Chapter Three: Moving Out**

Five minutes later, Albus stepped out of Severus's fireplace.

"You wished to speak with me Severus?"

"Yes, I wished to speak with you," spat Severus angrily. "Your _precious Potter_ had a seizure last night. We almost lost him."

"You saved him," said Albus. It wasn't a question.

"It was a close call."

Albus walked over to the sofa and looked down at the sleeping boy. He placed a wrinkled hand on Potter's forehead.

"He's still quite ill, isn't he?" said the Headmaster.

Severus nodded. "Albus, this child is damaged," he said harshly.

Albus raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"His relatives abuse him," said Severus. "They don't give him enough food, they ignore him, yell at him, berate him, hit him. Albus, they treat him like an animal."

Albus stroked his silver beard thoughtfully. "Do you have any evidence of this?"

"Evidence? _Evidence?_" hissed Severus. "This boy is being abused! Albus, if you had seen the look on his face tonight...I _know_ that look Albus."

"Are you sure it didn't have anything to do with you being, well, you, Severus? With the way _you_ treat him?"

Severus grimaced. "I am not without fault, Albus," he said. "I know that. I've been—seeing him as James, it's true. But I _know _what an abused child looks like, Albus. He may not have physical wounds, but I know how emotional abuse can damage a child, Albus," said Severus in an anguished voice. "I _know_."

"I, too, know how emotional trauma early in life effects children, Severus," said Albus gravely, placing a hand on Severus's arm. "But he cannot leave the Dursleys, you know that."

Severus jerked away from the headmaster. "You knew, didn't you? You knew!"

"I knew that Harry's aunt and uncle did not love him as they should, yes."

"Albus, I know you are not that blind! They are _abusing_ him and you're doing nothing to stop it!"

"Without the protection the blood ties offer he could be killed," said Albus.

"He was nearly killed tonight!" said Severus, outraged. "Because he's learned that it's not okay to admit to being ill!"

"Calm down, Severus," said Albus in a measured tone. "I am not abandoning Harry. I will—look into it. He cannot leave, but—steps can be taken."

"What kind of steps?" demanded Severus.

"We shall see," said Albus. "Now, seeing as Harry looks to be on the mend, it seems like a good time to give you your office back," said Albus.

"What?" said Severus.

"I think it is safe to move Harry to the hospital wing now," elaborated Albus innocently.

"You're sure?" said Severus.

"Oh, one can never be sure about anything, Severus," said Albus blandly, "but I am fairly confident that the move will do him no harm."

Severus mentally shook himself. Wasn't this what he wanted? To be Potter-free at last?

"I'll take him," he said, picking the boy up so that his arms were around Severus's neck. He was slight for twelve, and not overly difficult to carry.

Eyes twinkling in a knowing manner that Severus didn't like at all, Albus led the way out of the Dungeons and up to the hospital wing.

*****MTCC*****

When Harry next opened his eyes he at first didn't know where he was; but it only took a couple seconds for him to recognize the white, sterile room. He'd certainly spent enough time here over the last two years.

"Mr. Potter," said Madam Pomfrey's voice from somewhere above him, "how do you feel?"

Harry craned his neck to see the nurse as she hovered over his bed.

Big mistake.

"Owww!" he moaned, clutching his sore neck.

Madam Pomfrey tsked disapprovingly. "Sit up, Potter. Slowly!" she added, as Harry tried to sit up too quickly, making his head spin.

Harry sat up, more slowly this time, and accepted the cup of hot chocolate that Madam Pomfrey handed him.

"Mmm," he said, sipping the cocoa, "thanks."

"You're welcome, Mr. Potter," said Madam Pomfrey.

"Why am I here?" said Harry. "Where's Snape?" He looked around the hospital wing; the Potions Master was notably absent.

Madam Pomfrey raised her eyebrows. "You are here because you became well enough to be moved. This _is_ the infirmary. And Professor Snape is teaching class, Mr Potter," she said.

"Oh, right, of course," said Harry sheepishly.

"I asked you a question, Mr. Potter," said Madam Pomfrey.

"Huh?"

"How are you feeling?"

"Oh," said Harry. "I—"

How _was_ he feeling? He took a moment to consider. His head still hurt, in fact, everything still hurt, but not as badly as it had before. He was cold, but not freezing. He felt feverish, tired, and weak, but he was coherent, a definite improvement over the last few days.

"I feel sick," Harry admitted, going against all his instincts to hide this fact; he didn't figure it would do a lot of good. "But I feel better than I did before."

"I would imagine so," said Madam Pomfrey. "Now hold still."

Harry held still as Madam Pomfrey cast a temperature check spell.

"Hmph," she said, glancing at her wand. "Down, definitely down. But still all together too high."

"Er—" said Harry. "Can I know what it is?"

"I don't suppose it could do any harm," said Madam Pomfrey. "Your temperature is 39.5 (103.1) degrees."

Harry winced. "That's _down_?"

"Considerably," said Madam Pomfrey. "When Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore brought you in it was 40.1 (104.2). Professor Snape said it briefly got as high as 41.1 (106)."

Harry choked. "Are you _serious_?"

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "You, young man, are lucky to be alive."

Harry chewed his lip. "Did you say Professor Dumbledore was here?"

"Indeed," said Madam Pomfrey. "And he will be back later this evening."

"And Professor Snape?" said Harry hesitantly.

Madam Pomfrey shrugged. "I don't know. Now, Mr. Potter, _rest_."

Since he still felt sick and tired, and since it was never a good idea to disobey Madam Pomfrey, Harry closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

*****MTCC*****

When he next opened them, it was because he heard voices near the entrance to the hospital wing.

"Mr. Potter is still very ill. He needs _rest_, not excitement."

"But Madam Pomfrey, we haven't seen him in _ages_!"

"Professor Snape wouldn't allow us to visit him!"

"He'd want to see us, we promise not to give him too much excitement."

"Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, Mr. Potter is _sleeping—_"

"No I'm not!" said Harry hurriedly, sitting up.

"Harry!"

Ron's and Hermione's faces broke into grins of profound relief. They rushed over to his bed and hugged him fiercely. He hugged them back just as hard.

"Ron! Hermione! Merlin's pants, it's good to see you!"

"We were so worried about you, Harry," said Hermione. "We tried to see you before, but Snape wouldn't let us in."

"Stupid git," said Ron.

"No, Ron, really," said Harry. "He's not—Snape was really—he took care of me. Snape saved my life."

"_What?"_

"It's true. He—well, he was almost—nice."

"Nice? Snape?" said Ron incredulously. "I think that fever must have affected your head, mate."

Harry was saved the need to reply by Hermione. She pulled away from him and looked at him critically.

"Speaking of fever, Harry, you look _awful_."

Ron pulled back and looked at him too.

"Wow, mate, Hermione's right," he said with concern. "You're all pale and clammy."

Hermione put her hand on his forehead. "Oh _Harry_," she said. "You _do_ have a fever. Oh, Ron, he's burning up!"

Ron felt Harry's forehead too, and gave a low whistle.

"I'm fine," said Harry. "Trust me, I'm a lot better than I was."

"Harry," said Hermione, "when you say Snape saved you life...?"

"Yeah," said Harry quietly. "I probably would have died if it hadn't been for him."

Ron and Hermione hugged Harry again.

"Guys, you probably shouldn't get so close to me. I'm still pretty sick. I don't want you to get sick too."

Hermione waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry about us, Madam Pomfrey has wellness charms all around the infirmary. Worry about yourself. Merlin, Harry, you're shaking."

"It's nothing," Harry assured her. "I'm just a little chilly. The fever, remember?"

Hermione put her hand on his forehead again. Harry was getting tired of people doing that.

"It's pretty bad isn't it?" she said.

Harry made a face. "I feel pretty crummy, but, like I said, it was a lot worse before."

"Well, I hope you get better soon," said Hermione. "You've got a lot of work to catch up on!"

Harry groaned.

"Hermione, he's sick!" said Ron. "He doesn't want to think about schoolwork!"

"But it's important!" said Hermione. "He doesn't want to fall behind!"

Harry yawned and and immediately Madam Pomfrey descended upon them.

"Out! Out!" she said, trying to bustle Ron and Hermione out the door. "This boy needs to rest!"

"But—protested Ron."

Then a new voice interrupted the argument.

"Ron, Hermione, Poppy, could I have a word with Harry for a moment?"

Professor Dumbledore stood in the doorway, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Of course," said Ron and Hermione together. "We'll see you later, Harry, okay? Feel better."

"Bye." Harry waved. "See you soon."

Madam Pomfrey was less compliant.

"Headmaster, this boy is _ill_. He needs to rest. He's already had visitors here for the last half-hour—"

"I apologize, Poppy, but I would like to speak with Harry. We will not be long."

Grumbling, Madam Pomfrey went into her office and closed the door. Harry looked up at Dumbledore.

"Harry, how are you?" said Dumbledore, pulling up a seat beside his bed.

"I'm okay," said Harry shrugging. "Ouch. I'm a little sore," he amended.

Dumbledore reached out and felt Harry's forehead. Harry squirmed.

"I know I've got a fever, okay?" he said irritably. "I don't need everyone telling me how sick I am!"

Immediately he flushed. "Er—sorry, Professor," he mumbled. "I'm just tired of everyone doing that."

"It's quite alright, Harry," said Dumbledore kindly. "I quite understand. There is nothing so very tiring as not being able to do anything."

Harry smiled, but his brain was becoming foggy again; Ron and Hermione's visit had tired him out more than he cared to admit.

"You gave us quite a a scare, Harry," said the headmaster.

"I'm sorry," murmured Harry. "I just thought I could manage."

"We must learn to know our own limitations, child," said Dumbledore. "This is not a weakness, but a strength. Anyway," said Dumbledore, becoming businesslike, "I came to see how you were doing, and now I should let you get some rest, before Madam Pomfrey puts a hex on me." His eyes twinkled merrily as he stood up.

"Professor Dumbledore, wait," said Harry suddenly. "Is—Professor Snape—can you tell him thanks for me?"

"Certainly," said Dumbledore. "Sleep well, Harry."


	4. Chapter 4: A New Beginning

**Disclaimer: Just in case you didn't get the memo, I don't own Harry Potter.**

**Chapter Four: A New Beginning**

Over the next few days Harry's health slowly improved; he stopped feeling cold all the time, his muscles stopped aching whenever he moved, and his head felt clearer. Ron and Hermione came to see him every day. They brought sweets, get well cards, and piles of homework. Harry was so bored sitting all day long in the hospital wing that even the homework was welcome. Harry's other friends, including the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team, stopped by, as did Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall. Snape, however, remained notably absent.

For some reason this bothered Harry. It wasn't like he expected Snape to come rushing in every other minute to check up on him, he wouldn't have wanted him to; but the man _had_ looked after him for over a week and now he hadn't come by to see Harry even once. One time, Harry had looked up and could have sworn he had seen Snape's face in the hospital wing window. But it was gone so quickly that Harry thought he must have imagined it. Harry had thought, foolishly, that something had changed between him and his professor, that Snape somehow cared about what happened to him. Obviously he had been wrong.

*****MTCC*****

Severus quickly pulled his head back from the infirmary window. Had Potter seen him? He wasn't sure, but he hoped not. It was dark, and Severus had been quick... Severus ran a hand through his lanky hair. Potter was alright. That was why he had come here, and now that he'd seen that he should leave. Go back to the dungeons. Forget the boy.

Severus didn't move.

Damnit, he was _worried_ about the boy, that was the root of the problem. He was supposed to hate Potter, he was James Potter's son! Every time he looked at the boy, all he saw was James. James Potter with Lily Evans's eyes. Well, that was all he used to see... Now, somehow, it wasn't just James he saw. It was Harry. The boy had nearly died in his arms, for Merlin's sake!

Damnit, he wasn't going to let himself get attached to anyone, let alone Potter's bratty kid. He knew where that kind of thing led. Besides, Potter didn't need him. Potter wouldn't _want_ him. There was nothing more to be said.

*****MTCC*****

"I don't see why you have to come to see me in the middle of the night, Severus"

"I am busy during the day, Poppy. In fact, I am busy right now and would like this to be as quick as possible."

Poppy glared at him.

"Potter is doing much better Severus, since you asked," she said peevishly.

"I did _not_ ask, Poppy, nor did I wish to ask," said Severus stonily,

"Potter has been asking about you, Severus," Poppy said in a softer voice. "You should see him."

"I think not," said Severus, curtly. "Here are your potions, Poppy. Good night."

Three beds away, Harry Potter lay on his side under the covers, hot tears leaking out from under his tightly closed lids.

*****MTCC*****

Harry was released from the hospital wing in time for dinner on Monday evening. The Gryffindor table burst into cheers when Harry entered the Great Hall, and Ron and Hermione quickly made space for him between them. Harry beamed at them. He had forgotten how wonderful it felt to be _well_. When Hermione started to flutter around him he batted her hand away.

"I'm _fine_, Hermione," he said. "Really." He held her hand to his forehead. "No fever, see?"

After dinner the three of them went up to Gryffindor Tower. Harry still had some homework to finish before he went back to classes the next day, but luckily Hermione took pity on him and agreed to help him finish it, so it didn't take him too long to get it done.

As Harry was packing up his school bag Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, approached him.

"It's good to see you back, Harry," said Wood, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "You'll be at practice tomorrow?"

"Of course," said Harry, grinning.

"Good man," said Wood.

*****MTCC*****

The next day everything was back to normal. Harry was welcomed back by his classmates and teachers and by Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, who gave him a bone-crunching hug as Harry patted him awkwardly on the back.

"Hagrid, Hagrid, I'm fine, really! I've got to get to class!"

That evening at Quidditch practice Harry flew with all the pent up energy of the last three weeks. Flying was one of Harry's favorite parts of the wizarding world, and it felt beyond amazing to be back on a broom, back in the air.

After practice, Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower in high spirits. Everything was back to the way it was supposed to be. Unlike the last three confusing weeks, this made _sense_.

*****MTCC*****

The following morning, when Harry glanced at his schedule, his stomach sank. Potions. Their first class of the day was Potions. That meant Snape. Harry had always hated Potions, mostly because he had always hated Snape and Snape had always hated him. But now he positively dreaded it. Stupidly, he had let his guard down in front of Snape; stupidly, he had let himself believe that Snape's feelings toward him had changed. And now things were going to go back to the way they were before. No, things were going to be _worse_. He would have to face Snape, knowing he had let the man hold and soothe him, knowing that it had meant nothing to him. Well, Harry would simply not let it mean anything to him either.

As the class filed in, Severus glanced surreptitiously over at Potter. He looked well; all traces of the boy's illness were gone. Potter glanced up and Severus quickly shifted his gaze. Potter was well and everything had returned to normal. It was better that way; predictably familiar.

Severus strode to the front and the classroom immediately fell silent. Ignoring the green-eyed boy in the back just as intently as Harry was ignoring him, Severus gave the class their instructions and then retired to his desk as the students went up to the front to get their ingredients. Once the beginning of a potion was simmering in every cauldron, Severus rose from his desk and proceeded to prowl around the room, making biting comments about the Gryffindors' potions. He sneered Weasley's potion and vanished the pathetic mess at the bottom of Longbottom's cauldron, but he strode by Potter's potion without even glancing at it, his glower daring anyone to comment on his lack of abuse for the boy. When class ended Potter and his friends were the first ones out of the room

*****MTCC*****

The next few days were much the same. During most of the day Harry's life was back to normal, or as normal as it ever got for him, but every time he entered the Potions dungeon, he felt as though the air were charged with a strange kind of electricity. Sometimes Harry thought he felt Snape's eyes on him, but every time he looked up, his professor was as indifferent as ever. In fact, while Snape used to take every opportunity to insult him and take points from him, now he was simply acting as if Harry didn't exist. This bothered Harry even more than if things truly had gone back to the way they were. If he had been willing to admit it to himself, he would have said that he was hurt by the Potions Master's cold indifference.

*****MTCC*****

Potions was Harry's last class on Friday. He was eagerly looking forward to the weekend, but first he had to sit through two hours of his least favorite class. Sitting down down at his usual table; Harry set up his cauldron and set to work, determined to get through the period as quickly as possible.

As usual when one wishes time to go quickly, the two hours crawled by. But finally the bell rang and Harry swung his bag over his shoulder, freedom in sight. However, as he was leaving the classroom, Malfoy bumped into him, knocking his bag out of his arms and spilling its contents all over the floor.

"Oops. Sorry, Potter," he smirked, sauntering out of the classroom, followed by a sniggering Crabbe and Goyle.

Cursing, Harry bent down and gathered up all of his things, shoving them back into the bag. By the time he stood up, he was appalled to see that he was the only student left in the room.

Severus turned around and came face-to-face with Potter. The green eyes, now free of fever or pain, looked more like Lily's than ever. Or _were_ they free of pain? Something fluttered in the depths of Potter's carefully schooled expression, and something in the depths of Severus's heart twinged in response.

"What do you want, Potter?"

Mortifyingly, Harry felt tears prick his eyes. He blinked them back.

"Nothing, sir," he said stiffly. "I just dropped my bag."

Why did Potter's voice sound so tight? Severus wondered. It almost sounded as if the boy was trying not to cry. But that was absurd, what did he have to cry about?

Harry turned to leave, and then something inside him crumbled. Never before had he been as open and honest with an adult as he had with Snape last week, and now the man was treating that as if it was worthless. No, as if it had never even happened. Even if Snape ended up hating him even more, he couldn't take any more of this uncertain tension.

"I heard you," he said venomously, not turning around. "When you came to the hospital wing. I was awake."

Severus stared at him. He head heard—what?" What had Severus said then that could have upset him so much?

"I _trusted_ you," spat Harry, wheeling around, livid. "I told you things... I _cried_ in front of you. You saved my _life_!" He let out a strangled sob. "And you didn't even come to see me in the hospital wing. You won't even look at me! If that meant nothing to you. If you're—_ashamed_ or—or _disgusted _with me, then fine! If you still hate me then come out and say it!"

Severus felt as though someone had punched him. Beneath the rage, the pain in Potter's voice was unmistakable. In trying to protect both of them, Severus had only managed to hurt this little boy, _Lily's_ little boy, even more. Whatever he did always ended up turning out wrong. His life was nothing but a series of mistakes.

"Harry—" said Severus, taking a step toward him. "I don't still hate you—"

And then Harry was crying in earnest, and Severus was holding the child against him, hands rubbing soothing circles on Harry's back. Severus knelt and drew the boy closer to his chest, so that Harry's face was buried in his shoulder.

"Harry," whispered Severus. "I'm not ashamed of you, I'm not disgusted with you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." Suddenly, making Harry understand this was the most important thing in the world.

"Then why did you abandon me?" Harry's voice muttered against Severus's shoulder.

"Abandon you?" said Severus, shocked. "Never. I was—there. I'm just not—Harry," he said, pulling the boy way from him slightly and conjuring up two chairs and a handkerchief. "Sit down. Wipe your eyes."

Harry did as he was told, eying his professor warily.

"I'm not good at this kind of thing," said Severus. "This kind of—" he ran a hand through his hair. "You look so damn much like your father."

Harry glared at his professor. "I can't _help_ that!" he said. "He was my _father_! What do you have against him anyway?"

Severus gritted his teeth. A month ago he would have gladly told Potter just what his precious father had been like. But now...

"We—didn't get along," he said. "I was—friends with you mother though," he added softly. "You have her eyes."

Harry looked at him in amazement. "You were friends with my mother? Really?"

"Yes," said Severus.

"Will you tell me about her?" said Harry eagerly.

Severus rubbed his temples with his fingers. Talk about Lily... He hadn't done that in eleven years. He didn't know if he _could_.

Harry looked up at his professor with concern. "Are you alright, sir?" he asked, hesitantly touching Snape's arm. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, Harry," said Severus heavily. "No, Harry, you didn't say anything wrong. Sometimes thinking about the past is—difficult."

Harry squeezed the Potions Master's arm gently. "Will you tell me about her? Please?"

_No_, said Severus's mind. _I _can't_. Not to you. Not to anyone_. But the boy was looking at him so beseechingly... Maybe Severus had the power to help this child. As no one had ever helped him.

"What do you want to know?" he said.

Harry scooted his chair closer to Severus and tentatively leaned his head against Severus's shoulder.

"Don't push it, Potter," said Severus, gently pushing Harry's head away.

"Sorry, Professor," said Harry, moving away again.

"_Harry,"_ said Severus exasperatedly. "You can sit next to me. Just don't _lean_ on me."

Harry's mouth quirked into a small smile and he moved his chair back so it was almost touching his professor's.

Severus touched the boy's hair lightly. "Now, what do you want to know, Harry?"

"What was she like?" he asked.

Severus swallowed. "She was—beautiful. She liked to laugh, but she could be very stern too. Strong. She was bright, but not cocky, and never above helping someone who didn't understand."

Harry heard the pain in his professor's voice, and although he didn't understand it, he instinctively put his hand on Snape's back.

Severus paused briefly, surprised at the contact, then moved Harry's hand down to rest on his arm before continuing, keeping his own hand over the boy's.

"She never cared what other people thought, and she wasn't afraid to speak her mind."

She meant a lot to you, didn't she, Professor?" said Harry quietly.

Severus willed himself to keep calm. "Yes, Harry, she did."

Severus talked until his voice was hoarse. It hurt, it hurt more than he could have possibly imagined, and yet—it was somehow liberating, to be able to talk about this, to be able to talk about _her_. Share her with the son who had hardly known her. The twelve year old boy whose warmth felt strangely comforting against Severus's side.

Finally, Severus stopped talking and glanced up at the clock on the wall.

"It's late, Harry," he said, standing up. "You should go find your friends before they come back and break down my door to rescue you."

Harry laughed and the corners of Severus's mouth turned up ever-so-slightly.

"If you tell anyone that I can be—even remotely—sentimental—" Severus shuddered at the word—"Potter, I swear to you—"

"I won't Professor, I promise," said Harry earnestly, a glimmer of humor still in his eye. "Cross my heart and hope to—"

"Never mind that, Potter," said Severus sternly but with a hint of fondness. "We've already come far too close to that. Run along now."

"Yes sir," said Harry, turning to leave. "Er—thank you, sir."

Severus looked at the boy. He hadn't even come close to telling him everything. Harry was far to young and Severus wasn't ready. But maybe, someday, Harry would understand why Severus had done everything he had, why he was the way he was. Lily was dead, he could never change that, however much he wanted to. But Harry... He had been abused by his relatives, and Severus had been horrible to him, and yet here he was, talking to Severus candidly, giving him a second chance. And if the boy could give him a second chance, the least he could do was to give him the same. And maybe, just maybe if there was hope for Harry, there was hope for Severus too.

Severus nodded at Harry, who nodded back.

"You are very welcome, Harry."

**AN: I know it was really short, but this was the idea I had and this is where it ended.**

**Last chance to leave a review ;)**


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